One Thousand and One Ships
by Claywind
Summary: The Magi cast can pretty much be shipped in any way, shape or form imaginable. (A one-shot for every pairing I can think of, some serious, other crack-ish). Hints of smut, mostly fluff.
1. Ja'far & Sinbad

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any Magi characters (which I lament every day). Everything was created, written and drawn by Shinobu Ohtaka, and we are very grateful that she did.

**Rating: **T or M. Each chapter will be rated separately. Most of it is pretty tame. This one is T.

**Warnings:** Yaoi, yuri, het and (obviously) _non-canon_ shippings. Duh.

**First Cycle**

**I – 1: **Ja'far / Sinbad

Ja'far held a huge amount of devotion for his king. In fact, both of them acknowledged that the ex-assassin would happily gouge out his own eyes with a dull knife before doing something that would harm Sinbad.

It did not mean that he could not find his king exceedingly frustrating, sometimes.

Like right now, Ja'far thought, as he was half-dragging, half-carrying a fully drunk monarch to his chambers, and contemplating just abandoning him in the hallways for the servants to find in the morning. But that would create more complications than anything, Ja'far argued to himself as he reached the bottom of the stairs leading to the king's rooms. He sighed and glared at his passed-out friend.

Sinbad just _had_ to sleep at the top of a giant tower.

Ѻ

Many steps and curses later, Ja'far finally dragged his king inside his chambers. From there, it took only a few more meters – and grunts – to reach Sinbad's bed, where he could at last let the taller and heavier man collapse from his shoulder to the plump mattress.

"When I decided to follow you," he drawled at the unconscious figure, "I did not expect to be doing freight lifting."

Sinbad's light snoring was his only answer and Ja'far weakly kicked the leg that was dangling from the bed.

"You could at least _pretend_ to listen," he mumbled with a half-hearted glare.

He contemplated the untidy image that his king formed – drool, ruffled clothes and tangled jewelry – and just knew he was not going to leave Sinbad like that, no matter how much he wanted it to be a lesson for his king. He was not sure if it was because of his loyalty or of his slightly obsessive tendencies where tidiness was concerned. He sighed in aggravation and started removing the many rings, bracelets and pendants Sinbad wore on a daily basis.

"You know," he muttered between two grumbled insults at a necklace clasp that seemed determined to not budge, "this is exactly the kind of stupid moment that makes me reconsider my loyalties."

_Take that_, he thought.

Most of the time, Ja'far was a very restrained person. But right now, venting a bit of his annoyance at the oh-so-frustrating unconscious monarch seemed like a harmless – and stress relieving – activity. After winning his fight with the stubborn necklace, he discarded the last jewelries to a nearby night stand and shifted his attention to disrobing his king.

"I expected someone I could actually _rely on_, you know," he grumbled, fiddling with the sash's knot. "Not that you're unreliable," he corrected after few seconds of thought, "you just…" He sighed. "It's like you don't take it seriously, sometimes."

Sinbad mumbled a few incoherent syllables when Ja'far rolled him to the side to extract the fabric stuck underneath him

"And I _know_ we're not supposed to be serious all the time, at least you, because _I_ don't do silly."

His hands automatically folding the purple and white robes, Ja'far took a deep breath.

"But still," he added sternly. "You're my king. You're supposed to be _regal_." He dropped the folded robes on an armchair, knowing exactly what Sinbad would retort to that last bit. "And I don't care about your peasant birth; the fact that you weren't born noble doesn't mean that you don't have to act like one now that you wear a crown."

He crossed his arms over his chest, satisfied with his argument and made a mental note to slide it into a conversation when Sinbad would be awake and sober enough to comprehend his words. His gaze travelled around the room in search of his king's sleeping gown and he frowned in disapproval when his king released a particularly ill-timed burp.

"That was disgusting," he commented, stifling a yawn. "Also, you're an asshole for getting drunk at such an ungodly hour. I could be sleeping, but no, I'm still awake because I have to get you to your bed. Do you have any idea how much sleep I miss every week because of you?"

He abruptly cut off his rant – it was starting to sound too much like a whine – and grumbled a few new curses instead.

"I'll never understand what pleasure you find in alcohol," he berated the unconscious form of his king, his eyes trailing along the lines of Sinbad's muscles. "It fogs your mind, hinders your movements and gets you completely incapacitated and defenseless. A _child_ could kill you, right now, never mind a trained assassin."

He paused and glared at the open window that any dedicated enemy of Sinbad could easily reach with a bit of persistence and creativity. He knew; he had done the climb many times to make Sinbad see his point, and had only gotten in return a few joked remarks about his insistence to get into his king's rooms, which was infuriating, because he had been serious and _how could Sinbad not see the danger?_

"We both know Sindria is not as safe as you claim it to be," he murmured, a bitter grimace marring his face.

Letting his training take over, he closed his palm around an imaginary knife and stalked to the bed in the perfect silence that had been drilled into him before he was old enough to walk. He crouched and placed the imaginary blade against his king's throat, mimicking a slashing movement.

Sinbad let out a small snore, curled to the side and Ja'far restrained the suddenly desperate urge to shake him awake. With a sigh, the ex-assassin straightened himself and went back to locating his king's night gown.

"But you don't care about any of that, do you?" he whispered softly, while searching a cupboard for the elusive garment. "You have your Solomon-forsaken _luck_ to get you through adversity," he added, his voice rising to hide his anxiety, "so where's the problem in getting drunk, having fun and letting me deal with the fallout?"

Sinbad might find partying to be the height of entertainment but, to his advisor-turned-bodyguard, it was a nightmare. Try protecting a man with as many enemies as Sinbad had, when said man was frolicking in a crowd of countless potential assassins and utterly unable to defend himself should he be attacked.

"Hoy, Ja'far," he mocked, fists on his hips and impersonating his king's too-carefree tone rather successfully. "I'm going to town for a drink. Come with me, it'll be _fun_!"

The last word was more growled than it was said.

Ja'far exhaled a long, deep, breath and shook his head with a tired slump of his shoulders.

"Your idea of entertainment is more than seriously messed up."

Having finally found the night gown – Sinbad must be hiding them – he walked back to the bed and started the difficult process of putting the robe on his king. The fact that, even comatose, the man was still very much against clothes made his task a lot harder than it should have been.

"I hope that you're happy with yourself," he growled at an extremely aggravating sleeve, infuriated by his unconscious king's passive resistance, "because this is _not_ fun."

"I could make it more fun," replied an all-too-awake voice.

Ja'far froze.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds – of course, of _fucking_ course – and let out a deep breath. Fingers twitching, he looked up from the elbow he was currently trying to slide in a sleeve and stared at the completely awake – and eminently lucid – face of his king. He then closed his eyes again, pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a very long sigh.

"You heard everything, didn't you?" he asked, not even bothering to look at Sinbad's expression, because he already knew what kind of mischievous smirk he would find there and, really, he did not need more embarrassment than he was already drowning into. "Of course, you did." He looked down at the uncooperative sleeve and sighed again, and there was a bone-deep weariness in that sigh. "Great. Now let me get up, leave your rooms and pretend the last twenty minutes never happened."

Ja'far leaned away, but his attempt at getting up was halted by Sinbad's hand catching his wrist with an accuracy that spoke more than words about the man's real state of inebriation.

"You weren't drunk when I carried you up the stairs, were you?"

The question was asked in the blank, emotionless tone that Ja'far used when he could not decide whether he wanted to strangle someone with mild prejudice or go curl up in his room and wait for all the idiocy to just go away. He finally turned his face back to his king and the nuance of guilty glee in Sinbad's eyes was answer enough.

Ja'far's lower eyelid twitched.

"Ah," Sinbad retorted with a grin, dismissing the sign of his advisor's annoyance – and future revenge, "but I thought the last twenty minutes _never happened_, did they not?"

The twitch appeared again, this time more pronounced, and Sinbad ignored it.

"You're an asshole," Ja'far stated in what was supposed to be a dismissive tone but ended up being amused irritation.

"So I've been told," his king retorted with an unrepentant grin. "I'm also very sorry that you're losing that much sleep over me."

Sinbad's tone was pitched low enough to give the sentence a flirty vibe, which did not help Ja'far in taking the apology seriously. It rather gave the impression that, like most girl who met Sinbad – and subsequently failed to restrain their growing obsession with the man – Ja'far could not sleep for far different reasons than the ones invoked.

"Don't make it sound like that," he huffed back.

"Like what?" his king asked with fake innocence.

"You know very well what."

"Do I?"

"_Yes_," he hissed, a murderous glare flashing in his eyes, and Sinbad wisely dropped the subject.

His attention fell back to his wrist that was still firmly in his king's grasp and he glared at the offending hand holding him here and away from his ever-shortening night of sleep.

"I'm sorry that I make you _that_ worried," Sinbad said more sincerely, "but you _do_ know I can take care of myself, don't you?"

"Most of the time," Ja'far grumbled back. "I worry about the choices you make when you're actively avoiding relying on your brain."

"Ouch."

"And it's not like I can't sleep at night because I'm worried…" Well, most of the time. And when he could not sleep, he just got up, patrolled the palace until his anxiety had receded to bearable levels. He sighed. "Your antics just keep me up far past my bedtime."

It was not as if he could go to sleep before Sinbad, because there was no way he would just trust someone else with the reckless idiot's safety, not when he knew the kind of crazy shit that always happened around his king.

"Well, you could always sleep here;" Sinbad offered with a teasing smile. "You'd be the first to know if someone manages to sneak into my room…"

Ja'far stared at him with a deadpan expression.

"If you're trying to get me into your bed," he drawled, "that was the lamest excuse I've heard today."

"I must be losing my touch," his king joked.

Ja'far considered retorting that Sinbad did not have any 'touch' to speak of, but his friend seemed to suddenly process the last bit of his answer.

"Wait," Sinbad blurted out with a startled expression, "Today, I didn't… who else has been propositioning you?"

Ja'far raised an eyebrow at the affronted tone.

"People," he replied curtly and had to conceal his amusement at the indignant expression slowly creeping along his king's face. Sinbad seemed to hesitate between confused jealousy and outrage at what he knew must irritate his advisor to no end.

Eventually, his king composed himself and settled for a mostly neutral question:

"Does it… happen often?"

He shrugged with a casual disinterest that he knew would drive Sinbad up the wall and if that was not a so-very-appropriate revenge…

"Not really," he drawled, "I'd say four times, maybe five times a week."

"That's at least once a day!" Sinbad exclaimed, reaching otherwise unprecedented heights of puzzled outrage.

"Twice yesterday," Ja'far corrected with great calm.

There was a pause.

"And did you…" his king eventually started asking, only to trail off with uncertainty at the arctic stare the assassin-turned-advisor was sending his way.

"Sin'," Ja'far replied in a deceptively sweet voice, "with all due respect, that is _none of your business_."

Though what 'that' entailed did not amount to much. Mostly, Ja'far was too busy to pay attention to his sentimental – and physical – desires or those of the humans buzzing around him. However, it did not mean he could not take revenge on his amusingly possessive king, especially when said king's kicked puppy expression was turning into a rather ridiculous pout.

"Well," Sinbad declared with an expression hinting that he was decided to make it the sixth proposition of the week. "Sleep with me?"

"No."

"I meant just sleeping. In my bed."

Ja'far did not roll his eyes. But it was very close.

"Of course, you did." Had his words dripped more icy sarcasm, they would have left ice on the floor. "No."

"But you'll gain time on your sleep schedule," Sinbad argued, "And if you don't have to go back to your rooms, you can make sure I wake up early. Isn't it an even better reason than just guarding me in my sleep?"

"It's actually worse," he deadpanned. "Good job."

"Thank you. Seriously, though, you're welcome to stay…"

"If you somehow manage to convince me, I don't think we're going to be doing much sleeping…"

"True, true. But still…"

"Sinbad. We've already discussed this."

They had.

These arguments had never ended well, and Ja'far did not intend to lose more precious sleep time over another one.

"Ja'far… won't you give me a chance?"

For a few heartbeats, Ja'far just looked at him.

Then he raised his free hand to Sinbad's face, softly tracing the side of his jaw until the tip of his fingers rested on the pulse at the side of his neck.

He was close enough to hear the choked intake of breath and smiled. A small tug, and Sinbad let go of his arm, which Ja'far wrapped around his nape. Their chests were almost touching, and he could feel Sinbad's warmth from where he stood, half bent over his king.

Warm hands settled upon his hips, their touch surprisingly light, almost shy.

Ja'far smiled again, his hand stroked Sinbad's pulse, then trailed to a point, just above his left collarbone. He leaned toward Sinbad, his lips brushing the side of his king's ear.

"I would rather sleep," he whispered.

A sharp jab at the pressure point, and Sinbad was unconscious.

Ja'far rolled him to a vaguely appropriate sleeping position and covered him with the bedsheet.

He bent to the lying form and pressed his lips against Sinbad's in a chaste kiss.

"Sweet dreams, my king."

Ѻ

**This idea has been in the works for... at least 4 years. I've finally decided to post some of the less cringeworthy chapters here.**

**And yes, it did start because I wanted to try my hand at writing smut. ****This would be easier if I could type a sex scene without blushing every three words.**

**Anyway, enjoy.**


	2. Sinbad & Judal

**Rating: **T (for now)

**I – 2:** Sinbad / Judal

"I see you're awake, your Dumbness. Wanna play with me?"

A bored Judal popping late at night at your bedroom's window was usually a bad omen. Unless, of course, you were Sinbad, High King of the Seven Seas, and knew how to deal with a psychopathic bipolar brat who also happened to hold the powers of a god in human form.

Sinbad looked up from the scroll he had been reading – a bit of late work to indulge his nagging advisor and friend – and rolled it back, knowing that entertaining Kou's insane magi was going to require his full uncompromised attention.

"Good evening, Judal," he greeted politely. "What owes me the pleasure?"

"I got bored," the magi replied, floating lazily inside the room. "Came to visit." He hovered to his cupboards and began inspecting them for new items. Finding nothing, he reported his attention elsewhere. "Anything interesting happening around these parts?"

"No," Sinbad replied, as he got up and calmly walked near the bookshelves Judal was now poking at, "it's been quite peaceful."

It was true; the last few weeks had been surprisingly uneventful. Also, regardless of that fact, Sinbad was not foolish enough to entrust any delicate information concerning his island to Judal. He knew perfectly well that anything said to the magi would eventually come back to Al-Thamen.

"What a boring country," Judal sighed, throwing him the scroll he had been inspecting.

Sinbad easily grabbed it mid-fall and glanced at the title – a copy of his adventures – then raised an eyebrow at the magi and smiled graciously.

"Well, that was my goal, you know; to create a peaceful country where everyone could live happy."

"Yeah, yeah," Judal snorted, floating to his bed. "Boring. So, you never do anything fun in Sindria?"

The magi leaped on the mattress, proceeding to test its bounciness. He seemed to find it satisfying and kept jumping.

"Far from it," Sinbad informed him as he reached for one of the jugs of wine that he kept stacked under his bed (Ja'far probably didn't know). "We do have quite exciting festivals. You should come to one of those, it's quite a sight."

Judal stopped his bouncing and stared at him.

"Are you actually inviting _me_ to spend time in your country?" he asked with a half-sarcastic, half-astonished tone. "That's a new one."

Sinbad answered with a non-committal shrug, interiorly cursing himself for the little slip. Judal was dangerous and highly unstable. He certainly did not want him around innocent bystanders if he could avoid it. But he certainly could not retract his offer right now; that would be a very poor move on his part and could possibly ruin what had been up until now a nonviolent conversation. (Solomon knew how those were rare with Judal around).

Instead, he poured two goblets of wine, set down the jug on the headrest and walked to the magi, who was now hovering over his bed, playing with the mosquito net like an oversized, gravity-defying kitten. Sitting on his bed, Sinbad casually offered him a cup.

"Want some wine? This one is good, I guarantee."

Judal took the offered wine and sniffed it suspiciously.

"I'm not trying to poison you," Sinbad said as he snatched the goblet from Judal's hand, eliciting an indignant protest, and took a few mouthfuls before giving it back, "See? Nothing to be scared of."

Judal moodily grabbed it back, mumbled a vague 'not scared, idiot' and took a careful sip. Then his eyes lit up and he took another.

"Told you," Sinbad joked, "good wine."

What Judal grumbled was probably not very polite and Sinbad, determined not to be offended, simply took a few gulps from his own goblet. The strong, fruited aroma of Sindria's best wine immediately raised his mood up a few notches. Yep, definitely good.

"So," he eventually asked, "is there anything I can help you with?"

Judal stared at him, his expression once again skeptical.

"Okay, cut the crap. You're being way too nice with me," the magi accused, narrowing his eyes. "What are you up to?"

"I'm not being nice," Sinbad smoothly replied, "I'm being _polite_. You're an important guest from another country-…"

"With which you're _at war_," Judal interrupted.

"-from another country," he continued in a patient tone, "and I'm treating you with the respect due to your position. Aren't you Kou's esteemed high priest and oracle?"

"Like you care about decorum," the magi countered, taking a long gulp. Then another. "I saw you be all snarky in front of guys a thousand times more noble-blooded – not that I mind, it's fun – but I know you don't show respect when it isn't earned." Judal paused, scrunched his nose, seemingly lost in thought, and went on: "And I've done nothing to earn your respect, so cut the crap and spill it out. What's your deal?"

"Haven't you considered the possibility that I might just be a nice person?"

Judal burst into laughter, almost spilling what remained of his wine on the bed. The magi eventually brought his mad giggling under control and swiftly emptied his goblet, almost as an afterthought.

"Yeah, right," he snorted, "and Hakuryuu might just grow a backbone. You're one of the most manipulative guys I've ever met. And Kou's imperial court is my playground!"

"Alright, alright, you caught me," Sinbad half-mockingly answered. "I'm just concerned that you're going to blow up the place if you're annoyed, and it takes less effort to be nice than to kick your ass."

"See? Now _that_'s a valid reason!" Judal's face lit up and he raised his empty goblet in a toasting gesture. "Cheers. To your bastardly manipulative-ness."

Sinbad grinned, noticing the slight redness of the magi's cheeks, and brought his own glass up. This was actually a pleasant conversation, he realized as he reached for the half-emptied jug of wine and proposed the faintly flushed magi another drink. Two glasses should not be too much, Sinbad calculated, even considering Sindrian wine was a bit strong. Judal should be fine, if he was used to drink.

"I see your plan, Sinbad" the magi teased, raising a mocking eyebrow. "You're trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me."

"I never considered it," Sinbad smoothly lied through his teeth, casually dismissing the numerous times he had wondered what Judal's body looked like, stripped of is already quite revealing outfit.

The magi was attractive, there was no point in denying it. And, as much as he would have rather ignored it, Sinbad was aware of what was jokingly said about sexual tension between enemies. He sighed interiorly, hoping he had not been _that_ obvious to the insane magi. It was difficult enough to deny his usual post-battle boners whenever Judal was involved (not that Ja'far ever asked, but there was always this _look_ on his face), no need to pour oil on the fire now.

"You fuck everything young and pretty that comes your way," Judal snorted. "Face it, you're a slut."

Okay, he had not expected the conversation to take this turn and, to be sincere, it was a nice change of pace from the usual attempts at each other's lives. After all, if they were discussing his quite liberal sex-life, they were more likely to end up drunk together than at each other's throat. This was, in Sinbad's eyes, a great improvement from how their usual conversations concluded.

"I'm appalled that's your opinion of me," he sighed dramatically, "Don't worry, I have only the purest of intentions regarding you."

"What?" Judal inquired, (possibly not) faking an insulted expression, "I'm not young and pretty enough?"

Sinbad smirked.

"Of course, you're pretty. And handsome. And sexy," he added successfully, amused by the way Judal preened at his compliments. "Still, I have more than enough women scheming to get in my bed." Judal pouted at that. "I know I'll never need to resort to sneaky tactics to have sex. You're perfectly safe with me."

Judal snorted, apparently unconvinced.

"Funny how I can't help but remember 'gyoku waking me up in tears about something that had to do with you being a sneaky lecher."

Judal stared at him, all playfulness removed from his demeanor, and the hint of steel in his crimson eyes made Sinbad wince. From what he had surmised, Kougyoku had kept the affair secret. He would not have guessed she would confide in someone or for Judal to be her confident. That implied a significant degree of closeness. And the closeness went both ways, if the intensity of Judal's glare was any indication.

He would have to remember it, if one day he had to strike at either of them.

"As you look like you haven't been informed yet," he replied, "it was a setup from her attendant and I was perfectly innocent."

Judal seemed to relax and raised an expectant eyebrow, inviting Sinbad to sum up the events that had marked Hakuryuu and Kougyoku's first day in his country.

"That little _shit_," Judal hissed when he was done. There was a glint of pure hatred in his eyes before it all suddenly vanished, and he relaxed his stance, adding in a casual way: "When I come back to Kou, I'll make him eat his own lungs. Then I'll rip them out from his stomach and make him eat them again."

"There, there," Sinbad soothed, patting his back, "No need to be rash."

"I'll be rash when I want to, and don't expect me to trust you just because you happened to be innocent on that one, lady killer of the Seven Seas."

Sinbad raised an amused eyebrow, wondering how that nickname had come to the magi's ears, considering it was a bit of a private joke between his Eight Generals and himself.

"I won't take advantage of you, Judal," he declared in a more serious tone. "That would be wrong and I'm not that kind of person."

The magi set down his empty goblet and crawled to his lap, facing him with a devious smile as he straddled his thighs.

"What if I want to be taken advantage of?" he purred.

A small alarm went on in Sinbad's head and he eyed the magi carefully, trying to determine if Judal was being serious or just messing with him. He was not sure he could afford to make a wrong move.

"That… would be an entirely different matter," was his cautious reply. "Are you making an offer?"

Judal grinned and, with a slow, deliberate wiggle of his hips, brought himself closer to Sinbad's chest. The king leaned in, allowing his fingers to lightly brush the magi's exposed flanks and back, testing his resolve. The breathless, needy sigh he received in response was enough of a hint that Judal was pretty serious about doing this and Sinbad smiled.

The night promised to be interesting.

"Well then," he whispered, "I would be a fool to deny you, now, wouldn't I?"

Ѻ

**And this, dear readers, is where my mind stumbles to a screeching halt. I might come back on this later to add actual smut, but I'm already satisfied with the interaction between these two, so I don't really ****_need_**** it.**

**Hope you enjoyed.**


	3. Judal & Hakuryuu

**Rating: **M for coarse language and sexual innuendos.

**I – 3:** Judal / Hakuryuu

"Hey, 'ryuu!"

The sound of that god-annoying voice, informed Hakuryuu that his training session was about to be interrupted. He looked up and, as expected; Kou's irritating High Priest was hovering above a rooftop and waving excitedly at him.

"Need a sparring partner?" Judal asked smugly from his floating position.

"No, thank you," Hakuryuu replied, hoping that his cold politeness would be enough to bore the magi away. "I'm fine on my own."

"Too late, you've got one," Judal cheerfully retorted and the prince sighed. So much for good manners. "Try to dodge these!" the magi added, gathering water around him.

His mind immediately on high alert, Hakuryuu readied his stance and braced himself for the upcoming impacts. Judal's magic was deadly, ice was his specialty and he never checked his blows (if the magi could keep a vague control of his attacks in a fight, it was generally considered a good day). He was thus quite surprised when the dozens of razor-sharp icicles that he had been expecting turned out to be harmless snowballs. He slashed them expertly as they rained on him – missing only a few that he dodged instead – and raised an intrigued eyebrow at the magi but did not comment. Judal was an insane brat, it was useless to try to find a motive behind his actions.

Said insane brat floated down to the sparring ground and clapped his hands in a dramatic way.

"Congratulations, you defeated my army of tiny snowmen! You gained a wish."

Those were snowballs, not snowmen, but Hakuryuu had learnt that it was useless to argue semantics with Judal.

"I wish to be left in peace, so I can train."

"Aw, 'ryuu, don't waste your wish like that…"

Judal balanced himself on one toe and started swirling around the sparring grounds, arms extended, like bizarre non-feathered wings. His feet were barely grazing the earth as he did, which was not that surprising. On a normal day, the magi rarely touched the ground.

Hakuryuu was beginning to hope he had been forgotten, when Judal stopped his twirling to land in front of him.

"Oh! I know!" he exclaimed with a sudden outburst of childish enthusiasm, "We could go on an adventure together! It'll be fun!"

"No, thank you. I need to train and get stronger."

The instant he had pronounced these words, Hakuryuu realized that it was a mistake, because it was exactly what Judal was waiting for to suggest…

"If you wanna be strong," the magi beamed with excitement, a glint of insane glee shining in his eyes, "I can help you!"

"I am not interested," the prince replied, turning his back on Judal and resuming his training exercises.

Paying no mind to the rather obvious – and rude – dismissal, the magi floated around his guandao to be face to face again.

"Come on, don't you want to be strong? Let me raise you a dungeon."

Hakuryuu sighed and interrupted his movement before slashing Judal down. No matter how stress-relieving, the magi would not take it well, and Judal's idea of a just retribution tended to be disproportionate.

"Thank you, but I'd rather not. I'm fine on my own."

They had had this conversation a thousand times – so many times in fact that he could practically tell the whole thing by heart, now. Judal's next angle of attack would doubtlessly be his rather emotional tendencies.

"Aw, come on, 'ryuu, you can't stay a crybaby weakling forever."

Nailed it.

"I am not a crybaby!" Hakuryuu heatedly retorted, struggling to stay composed even though he knew his cheeks were already reddening in frustration.

Judal crossed his arms and gauged him with a doubtful eye.

"Riiiiight."

Hakuryuu took a deep breath and, turning around, assumed his training stance once more.

"I'm not interested, Judal, so get lost. I don't want your help."

"Come on!" the magi whined. "I raised a dungeon for your sister and I didn't even help her that much, just a bit of guiding to the djinn's chamber, that's all. You don't see her complaining! And I got her Paimon!"

Judal floated over his head to grab his guandao and, face-down, pulled himself close. Right, Hakuryuu reminded himself, the magi respected nothing and especially not personal boundaries.

"Don't you want a magi hand-picked djinn vessel?" Judal purred to his face. "I'm pretty sure Belial would fit with your fighting style…"

"I said no!" He retorted, shaking his guandao and sending the magi in a flying curve across the sparring grounds.

"Fine, fine," Judal grumbled, retaking control of his own gravity and floating slowly away. He waved vaguely with his hand. "You know where to find me if you ever change your mind."

Ѻ

Hakuryuu had just returned from Sindria and was peacefully unpacking his things, when Judal stormed into his room, an expression of freezing rage on his face.

"I can't _believe_ you went and conquered Zagan without me," the magi snarled in a low threatening voice.

Facing a furious Judal would have usually had Hakuryuu cautiously cower to a non-crazy-magi-filled corner of the palace, but not this time. He was strong now; he felt confident in his own decisions and abilities and he was not going to be Judal's plaything anymore. This time, Kou's fourth prince stood his ground and calmly answered:

"What part of that was out of character for me? I do remember telling you that I didn't want your help."

His apparent unfazed-ness destabilized Judal enough to throw him out of his fury. The magi was somewhat erratic.

"But I wanted to be there!" Judal whined. "Also, really? Zagan? I could have picked you so much better!"

Hakuryuu shrugged. The way he saw it, Zagan's powers were really useful.

"What does it matter to you?" he politely replied, hoping Judal would just go away if he gave him the cold shoulder. "I've got a djinn, now, so you can stop bothering me."

"Yeah, but he's not one of _my_ djinns!" the magi retorted, crossing his arms and leaning against a wall. "He's been raised by the green idiot, or Reim's bitch, I don't know, but it wasn't my dungeon."

Hakuryuu let go of a deep breath, sure he was going to regret his next question, but now his curiosity had been piqued:

"What does it matter, if it's not your dungeon or your djinn? I'm the one fighting with Zagan's strength, not you."

"Yeah, but I can't help you with him," Judal grumbled. "Not as much as I could."

"Good," Hakuryuu declared decisively, "I don't want your help."

To that, Judal turned around and floated about his room, having apparently lost all interest in the conversation. He poked a bit at his things and Hakuryuu suppressed the urge to kick him out, because it would only light the volatile magi's very short fuse.

"You know, 'ryuu," Judal began slowly while balancing a ceremonial dagger on the tip of his finger, "at first, I really thought you didn't want me to lend you a hand because of some stupid pride bullshit." The dagger fell, and the magi went on to inspect the insides of a treasure-looking chest only to discover neatly stacked clothes. He made a disappointed face but rummaged through it nonetheless. "Like you wanted to prove to yourself that you could do it alone," he continued, "with your own power, or whatever. That's why I didn't insist much."

Hakuryuu snorted at that. If the last few years had been 'Judal not insisting much', he was curious to know what it looked like when the magi was actually being persistent. Judal dropped the cloth he had been playing with and turned back to Hakuryuu, his expression suddenly serious.

"But how is that fair to me when you go ask another magi for what I'm practically _begging_ to give you?"

"I didn't ask Aladdin," Hakuryuu protested, wondering why he felt like he had to justify his actions, "The occasion just presented itself and-…"

Judal's eyes flashed.

"And I didn't give you enough occasions?" he retorted, livid. "What? I did not offer enough times?" Judal extended his arms. "I'm not strong enough to lead you through a dungeon? I'm not good enough?" The magi walked right up to him, stopping only inches from him. "What does that brat have that I don't?" he hissed furiously. "Why don't you want me to guide you? Why are you _denying_ me?"

Hakuryuu clenched his fists, a rare fury passing over him and he shouted:

"Because I don't want to be your pawn!"

"Well tough luck," Judal yelled back, "because I want you to be my king!"

"Well I-… wait, what?"

A stunned silence ensued as Hakuryuu processed the last bits of the exchange.

Judal promptly turned around, but the prince had had the time to glimpse a glowing blush on the magi's cheeks.

"Nothing," Judal mumbled as he turned back to walk away. "Go back to play with your little blade on a stick. I'm done with you."

"Oh, no," Hakuryuu declared, grabbing Judal's shoulder in a firm grip and forcing the magi to face him, "You're not getting away so easily, not after dropping a bomb like that!"

"Lemme go!" Judal spat, batting his hand away, but the prince just grabbed his wrists instead.

"Not until you explain that little 'king' thing to me," he replied, pinning him to the wall. "Now, spill it. You want to choose me?"

Judal struggled a bit but his physical strength was practically nonexistent, and he seemed too agitated to think about using magic – for which the small rational part of Hakuryuu's mind was relieved, because he would have been eating ice otherwise, Zagan or not.

"I meant my king candidate," Judal mumbled when he had stopped struggling. "Now, let me go."

"No," Hakuryuu replied, an incredible calm washing over him. "You didn't. You wouldn't have reacted like that if you did."

"Well, then, make your fucking conclusions yourself!" Judal snarled, tugging at his arms without gaining much freedom. "And let go of me!"

"No."

Hakuryuu didn't know why, but he felt defiant today. It was probably the impression of confusion and helplessness that Judal radiated; making the prince want to pay him back for all the bullshit he had been put through.

Judal trashed a bit, then seemed to calm down… and, just as Hakuryuu was about to ask him again, the magi launched himself at his face, kissing him hard on the lips.

The action was startling enough for Hakuryuu to lose his grip. Surprisingly, Judal did not run away the instant he was freed, but pressed closer against the prince, his hands grabbing at his clothes to hold him in place.

Of course, Hakuryuu panicked (even though a small part of his mind drew the comparison with how he had kissed Morgiana and then congratulated itself for now understanding her reaction).

He grabbed the magi's shoulders and tried to pry him away as far and as fast as he could, which resulted in Judal being mostly thrown, and Hakuryuu heard a breathless grunt when the magi's back struck the wall.

"What the-…" _fuck are you doing, you manipulative, crazy, evil, stupid…_

The train wreck that was his thought-process froze when he caught a glimpse of Judal's expression.

The mix of confusion and hurt that flashed in the magi's eyes should not have looked so genuine.

Without a word, Judal flew out of the room.

Ѻ

Hakuryuu was stalking the deserted hallways. No matter what they said about the capital never sleeping, the nocturnal activity in Kou's imperial palace was pretty low, except for his current wandering, of course.

He was searching for Judal's rooms, not knowing where they were, but too stubbornly proud to ask his way. He was not entirely sure why he was going, either, which scared him a little.

To be sincere, he felt rather shaken.

The pain he had glimpsed in Judal's eyes just before he had stormed out forced him to reconsider the obnoxious magi. In fact, if what Judal had said about choosing him as king was true – and judging by his reactions, there must have been some truth to it – it shed a new light to the magi's actions towards him these last years.

If Judal was willing to choose him over Kouen – instead of what had been carefully planned by his monster of a mother – it meant that he was rebelling against Al-Thamen. Judal could not ignore Hakuryuu's goals concerning the organization (kill them, _kill them all_), he had not been very subtle about it. If Judal, who was Al-Thamen's pawn since childhood, was willing to form any kind of association with him, it meant the magi agreed to some extent with said goals, and that could only mean…

He had been shunning away his only ally in the palace.

And all that without including the fact that Judal had kissed him. Probably from panic – and the magi was not really sane to begin with – but, still. Judal had _kissed_ him. And he had pushed the magi away, like one would a disgusting pest.

_'__Great job, kid,'_ Zagan snorted in the back of his mind. _'Think he's still gonna believe you're worth it after that little stunt of yours?'_

"Shut up," he mumbled back, but he knew his djinn was probably right.

He needed to find Judal and apologize, if only for the small possibility that the magi had been sincere in his attempt to kiss him, because if there was but the slightest bit of authenticity to it, then Hakuryuu had probably hurt him quite badly.

He had to try to set things right. See if, possibly, they could become allies, if friendship was still an option.

Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that Judal was a damn good kisser.

Ѻ

When he finally reached Judal's room, his resolution wavered. Pressing an ear to the cold wooden panel of the door, he was slightly taken aback to hear muffled sniffs coming from inside.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he knocked gently. The sniffling died down and a few seconds passed before a reply came.

"Leave me alone."

Judal's voice was weary and hoarse. Paying no heed to the order, Hakuryuu cautiously opened the door and peered inside. The wall on his left had been covered in a thick layer of ice. A few things were lying broken or torn to pieces on the floor and Hakuryuu was pretty sure some of them used to be made of metal.

A nest of blankets had been made where he guessed the bed was supposed to be, and at the center of it, curled around a pillow, was a shivering form. It looked more and more as if the magi had been sincere and Hakuryuu's guilt grew accordingly.

He entered, silently closed the door behind him and whispered a quiet "Judal?"

The magi started, his head snapping up from his nest, and the temperature in the room fell to freezing degrees.

"I said leave me a-…" The growl abruptly stopped, and a low, uncertain whisper came instead: "'ryuu?"

Hakuryuu saw him discreetly wipe his cheeks.

"Yeah, it's me," he awkwardly replied.

There was a short silence.

"What do you want?" Judal asked in a defensive tone.

"I'm here to say I'm sorry," he carefully stated and walked to the edge of the bed where he crouched down in a slow, cautious motion. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I'm not hurt," Judal muttered, avoiding his eyes. "You push like a girl."

Hakuryuu smiled at that. Snarky comments were better than antagonism. Also, from what he could see closer up, Judal's eyes were red (well, redder) and puffy and he was still hugging his pillow tightly. Hakuryuu sighed deeply and sat at the edge of the bed.

"Still, I'm sorry that I did. I was a bit freaked out, because you tend to play many mind games and I didn't know if it was one."

Judal mumbled something that sounded vaguely like 'no mind games with you' but Hakuryuu was not certain he had heard correctly, so he did not answer.

"You've said what you wanted to say," Judal grumbled after a few minutes of awkward silence, "you can go, now."

The abrupt dismissal felt like a cold punch in his stomach. It was usually Hakuryuu who asked to be left in peace, not the other way around. In fact, now that he thought about it, he could not remember an occasion where Judal had not sought his company. This sudden reversal of their roles made him wonder to what extent he had hurt the magi with his constant rejections. Yet, the other had tried and tried again, obstinately dismissing every rebuff. With a sharp tang of guilt, Hakuryuu realized just how much he had been taking Judal for granted.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm just… sorry."

"You're repeating yourself," Judal grumbled, "And why are you still here? You've made it quite clear that you don't like being near me, so don't force yourself."

The words were said in a bitter, sarcastic tone.

"No, it's just… I'm…"

Hakuryuu fell silent. His instincts were warning him that he should probably not speak, because, at this point, Judal was an emotional wreck. A very powerful and unstable emotional wreck.

"I don't know why I keep trying," the magi whispered, probably more to himself than to Hakuryuu, "You obviously prefer that blue-haired brat to me, so why do I even bother?" Judal paused and let out a long, tired sigh. "No matter what I give, you're not interested," he continued, louder. "You just keep playing with your shitty blade on a stick and you're not even nice."

"It's a guandao," Hakuryuu retorted, "and I am nice!"

Judal glared at him from the corner of his eye and looked back at the cushion he was hugging.

"Leave me alone," he muttered from his nest of blankets "You're a jerk. My pillow is nicer than you; it doesn't tell me to get lost when I come to say 'hi'… I'll just choose it instead."

He took a heavy, hitched breath.

"We'll go on an adventure, and travel the world, or whatever he wants, and I'll raise him a dungeon," There was a strangled wet noise, "and we'll conquer it together, and it'll be _great_, and I'll make him rule the… the Pillow Empire," Judal's voice cracked a bit and he seemed to curl on himself, "no scrap that, it'll be a kin-… a kingdom, the Pillow Kingdom, kingdoms are better anyway, they're ruled by awesome kings and not stupid, fat, greedy emperors with shitty, messed up kids." By this point, his body was shaken by uncontrollable little sobs. "Aw-awesome k-kings who conquer dungeons without m-me and don't… don't need my h-… my help and don't want anything to do with me, even if, even if I t-try really h-… really hard and- and…"

"I can be a nice pillow, too."

Judal's head perked up from the soaked cushion, looking as if he did not believe what he had just heard (to be truthful, Hakuryuu did not believe he had just said that). Still, the mix of hope and need in Judal's expression decided him and he opened his arms, inviting him with an awkward but sincere smile.

Judal didn't so much jump as he flew into the hug, sending Hakuryuu sprawl on the floor – thanks Kou's thick carpets – a half-crying, half-laughing magi trying to hug him with his arms and legs (and hair too, apparently).

"Judal," he gasped, "I can't breathe."

"Shut up," retorted the magi, huddling against his chest, "you're a pillow; pillows don't need to breathe."

"Then I'm going to be a dead pillow," Hakuryuu threatened, "is that what you want?"

"No," Judal answered in a childish tone, loosening his grip. "No dead pillow. Dead pillow is sad."

As the magi snuggled closer, Hakuryuu decided to screw dignity and simply hugged him back. This seemed to have been the right answer because Judal relaxed, breathing out a soft, contented sigh.

But, as reality would have it, lying on the floor was not the most comfortable experience in the world, especially when sharp bits of broken stuff were poking at your back.

"Judal?" Hakuryuu asked and received only a vague 'hn?' for answer. "The floor is not that pleasant to lie on. Can we go back to your bed?"

Judal peered up at him, a huge grin on his face, all childishness suddenly gone from his demeanor.

"Wow, 'ryuu, how forward of you. Not even buying me a drink, before?"

"What?"

The dots connected when Judal, who was straddling him, shifted his hips in a not-so-subtle manner.

"No, I didn't mean it like that!" Hakuryuu replied, cheeks burning and squirming to get up and away.

He stopped his frantic attempts at flight when Judal laughed; a simple, joyous laugh, devoid of its usual bitterness and scorn. Coming from the fallen magi, it sounded almost alien.

"I know, I know," Judal huffed. "You're a prude and that's a shame, because I'd be fucking you so hard, right now." He raised his hands in a dramatic fashion, not paying attention to Hakuryuu's offended squeak. "But alas, you like girls, so our tragic passion can never work."

Hakuryuu pondered for a few seconds – repressing the need to ask why it needed to be tragic – before deciding that Judal would be unlikely to use what he was about to reveal against him.

"I think you got it wrong," he declared, studying Judal carefully.

The magi looked down at him, a glint of uncertainty and maybe hope in his expression.

"What," he asked tentatively, "you don't like girls?"

"Yes, I like girls." Judal's face fell and Hakuryuu added with a smirk. "But I like guys, too."

"You like _both_?" the magi asked, clearly bewildered, and Hakuryuu frowned a bit.

"You have a problem with that?" he mumbled in a defensive tone.

Judal seemed lost in thoughts for a while, then his huge grin came back.

"On the contrary…" he replied, leaning in so his face was a lot closer than what personal boundaries usually allowed. "It's just…" he trailed off, seemingly embarrassed.

"Just?" Hakuryuu pressed him, curious.

"Well," Judal leaned back, sitting up and looking at the ice-covered wall with great interest, "why didn't you tell me… I mean…" He paused and bit his lower lip for a while before blurting out: "Why didn't you fall in love with me?"

For a brief second, Hakuryuu was dumbstruck.

"Ex…cuse me?" he asked before remembering who he was talking to.

Judal's logic was like his humor. Personal.

"Never mind," the magi shook his head with a small laugh. "I know I'm a pain."

"Yeah," Hakuryuu chuckled, "a pain in the ass."

Judal raised an eyebrow.

"Is that an offer?"

Hakuryuu rolled his eyes.

"Are you going to turn everything I say into a sex joke?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

He sighed.

"Then I guess this is the perfect moment to ask you again if we can go back to your bed?"

"Straight to business," Judal grinned. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

"Listen, can we go or not? There's something sharp poking at my back and it's getting painful."

"I can poke you with something el-…"

"Judal!"

"Fine, fine." Judal floated them up, which was a very disturbing sensation. "Wouldn't want you to cry…"

Hakuryuu simply groaned at that.

"You are impossible," he informed the magi. "And I deeply regret every one of my life choices."

Judal chuckled.

"No, you don't."

"I guess not," he said softly.

And if he took Judal's hand and laced their fingers together, well... no one needed to know.

Ѻ

**Even with my OTP, it seems I can't bring myself to write smut. **

**Oh, bother. I'll stop pressuring myself and just write cute fluff.**

**Also next pairing is Morgiana / Hakuryuu. As I really, really, don't ship them, this may take me a while to come up with something satisfying. **

**Ideas are welcome.**


End file.
